Playing House

by Laura Chapman

  “I went for a walk.” The words came out hoarse and heavy. Frankly, she was surprised they’d come out at all. Her chest felt like it was weighed down with a pile of stones. “I needed to think.”

  “What happened?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  He glanced around the bar, noting the growing after-business crowd, and nodded. “You’re right. Should we go back to one of our rooms?”

  “I don’t care.”

  He dug into his pocket and threw down a hundred. It was probably more than was due, but Bailey couldn’t be bothered to do the math. It was New York City, so it might not be that far off either. She also didn’t bother to put up a fight. With everything that had happened, this hardly seemed like something worth arguing over.

  She allowed him to pull her to her feet. Then, she mutely followed as he led her to the elevator, his hand gently gripping her arm. She pretended not to notice how closely he watched her, concern emanating from him. Earlier she would’ve felt bad about how she was treating him, but she just couldn’t muster the strength.

  He said nothing until they reached their floor. “Your room or mine?”

  “I don’t care.”

  He guided her to his room. Maybe he wanted the home-field advantage. Then again, it was closer than hers.

  The day had quickly deteriorated from where it had started. Nothing could have prepared her for any of it. Not even the fire they’d sustained that spring. That had only caused aesthetic damage. But the inferno Devon, and presumably Waverly, had lit this morning had been structural. There was no easy fix. It couldn’t be masked with a fresh coat of paint. It was a gut job. They might have to bulldoze the whole thing.

  Wilder closed the hotel room door behind them, eyeing her cautiously. Narrowing the distance between them, he brushed the damp strands of hair away from her tear-streaked face. “I know this sucks right now, but, Bailey Honey—”

  She recoiled like he’d struck her, because in a way that endearment—the one her father had stolen—felt more like a slap than a caress now. And damn him for ruining something she’d found so sweet only hours earlier.

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “But—”

  “Please.” It came out as a sob, which only made her want to resume crying all over again, but she steeled herself. She wasn’t going to lose it now. She had to be strong if she was going to get through this.

  Wilder blinked, but not before she caught the bewilderment in his eyes. Her heart stung knowing she was only making his day harder. It wasn’t his fault the words hurt her. Just like it wasn’t his fault their little world was crashing around them. This was why they were supposed to keep it light. It’s why they weren’t supposed to get attached. Because, damn it all, trying to make this into something bigger only made the fall hurt all the more. Her heart felt like it was ripping inside her chest.

  She couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  “I’ll fix this.” His voice went husky. “I promise. I’ll issue a statement. I’ll out Devon and Waverly. I’ll tell everyone the truth. I’ll—”

  “No, you won’t.”

  His frown intensified. “Why not?”

  “Because of Virginia.”

  “That doesn’t matter. We’ll figure—”

  “Yes, it does. It matters and we both know that.” Somehow saying that was like a switch, it turned off her filter. “This is it, isn’t it?” Before he could answer, she threw out another question that was more of a statement. “We can’t make this work, can we?”

  Shell-shocked, Wilder’s hand fell to his side. “Wait, what?”

  “This is it.” She furiously wiped away one of the tears she’d been struggling to control all day. “Our time is done. Like we always said it would be.”

  “No,” Wilder whispered, his voice harsh. He lifted a hand to reach for her again, but she stepped back, adding some distance. “This might take some figuring out. We might want to lay low—”

  “You mean, I’ll hide out in Texas while you do whatever Waverly and Devon say? Even if it means keeping up the pretense you’re happily married to another woman.” She wasn’t quite able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Playing House.” She laughed humorlessly. “That name has a whole lot of extra meaning, doesn’t it?”

  He flinched at her tone. “Bailey Honey—”

  “Stop calling me that. I should have known. The longer you lived it, the more it became your reality.”

  “That’s not—”

  “It is true.” Another tear slipped down her cheek. He reached forward to wipe it, but she once again sidestepped. She wasn’t ready for his touch. “Devon made things pretty clear.”

  A ferocious frown crossed his face. “What did he say?” No longer willing to be denied, he reached for her shoulders and pulled her close so they were nose to nose. “What did he say?”

  “As long as this is your life, as long as they’re in it, we can’t be together.”

  “Whatever he said, I’ll take care of it. I’ll go in right now and set him straight.” He released his grip, but only so he could wrap an arm around her waist and press her head to his shoulder. “We’ll be fine. I promise. As long as we’re in this together.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” A fresh tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know if I can make this work.”

  “Please.” It was a simple plea, but it came with too many what-ifs and no certainties.

  “We always said this was going to be a fling. You were always going to have to leave.”

  Wilder had to know this. He had to realize that while it might seem like he and Waverly could come to terms—if in fact they had—neither of them was pulling the strings. When push came to shove, how could he walk away from raising his daughter? How could she be with him if he did?

  “Our plans changed.” This time, when his mouth met hers, she didn’t push him away. “We changed.”

  She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “But the game didn’t. At least not enough.”

  At its core, nothing in their arrangement was any different than before. No matter what had happened between them, no matter how much he made her feel, they were destined for the ending they’d planned. He’d go back to his life with Waverly and Virginia. It was what he had to do to be the kind of father who was there. Not one who showed up years later when it was too late.

  When it was done, she’d go back to Texas. Only this time, she’d be lonelier because of the Wilder-sized hole in her heart.

  “Bailey . . . Honey . . . I want to be with you more than I want to breathe.” He ran his free hand over his head, tousling his hair. “We can make this work. We’ll figure it out. I know it’s hard, but it’ll work out. I l—”

  She covered his mouth with hers to shut him up. He didn’t have to say that Virginia came first. She never wanted that to change. It was one of the things she loved most about him—his dedication to that sweet girl. She’d never want him to give that up.

  She knew too well what it was like to have a father who couldn’t commit.

  Even as her lips moved against his, the ache inside her, of what she knew would come, spread. She couldn’t push it away. She couldn’t erase everything they’d had, what they were together. For once, she’d rather live with the pain of a beautiful memory than subsist on nothing.

  When at last they pulled apart, she took a moment to catch her breath. She rested her forehead against his. “No matter what, I want you to keep doing what you do best. Keep being a good father. Promise me that.”

  “Okay,” he agreed easily. His voice hitched when he asked, “What about us? Isn’t that worth something?”

  “It’s worth more than I could have ever imagined. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I think we need to take a step back and evaluate the big picture.”

  “But why? Baby, I l—”

  “Don’t.” She pulled her hands free and covered his mouth. “Please don’t. Not right
now.”

  He closed his eyes. Letting out a shuddering breath, he whispered, “Okay.”

  “Just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “Kiss me.”

  ***

  “Okay.”

  He’d said it to soothe her, but it reeked of defeat. Of course, she’d been right to stop him before he said he loved her. Though the three words pulsed out of him with every beat of his heart, this wasn’t the right moment to say them out loud for the first time. It should be in a moment of perfection—or at least happiness. Not as a last-ditch attempt to calm down the woman who meant more to him than breathing.

  “Okay.” It was one word, meant to give Bailey calm. But even as he said it again to himself, he wanted to scream. He wanted to tell her to give him time to fix things. He wanted to ask her to wait for everything to settle. Her worries that it wouldn’t work out were just that—worries. Born from a lifetime of having to be careful.

  It wouldn’t be fair to throw that in her face right now. Only a jackass would bring up her father at a time already so complicated.

  Still, he loved her. So much he hurt from loving her. He ran his knuckles over her cheeks, memorizing the way her eyes turned gold when she was staring at him. Even if they were filled with tears now, there was still a hunger there for him. His thumb grazed her lips. He wanted to taste them. She’d asked him to, and he would get to that. But he wanted more. His fingertips wandered down the length of her arms, tracing every inch, and then up again.

  He rested a cheek against her hair, breathing in the sweetness of her shampoo. He wanted to memorize every inch of her with all of his senses.

  Kiss me. The words echoed in his ears.

  Losing her patience, she leaned up on her toes and took his mouth. Welcoming her enthusiasm, he urged her lips open, moving his fingers to tangle in her honey-colored locks. Her hand slid up his back, pulling him closer and closer. He captured her groan with his mouth. It was all the encouragement he needed.

  He sprinkled light kisses across her chin and cheeks, tasting the salt of her tears, desperately wishing she’d never have a reason to shed them again. Her fingers dug into his back, and he knew she wanted this as much as he did. A way to heal, to rejuvenate.

  They discarded their clothes on the way to the bed. They tumbled into it together, limbs intertwining, hands roving. With caresses and gentle whispers of encouragement, he guided her over the edge. He knew just what she wanted, what she craved most. When he slipped into her at last, there was no race to the finish. Just long and tender strokes to savor every second. And with each movement, each sigh, his heart seemed to shout, “I love you.”

  When she whispered his name, he lost himself in her, wishing he could stay there forever.

  Forearms still braced on either side of her, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The tightness in his chest lingered, and he couldn’t quite shake it. He wanted to beg her to trust him. To give him more time to sort everything out. I’ll be worth it. Give me a little more time.

  He left the words unsaid for now. There’d be time in the morning, when she wasn’t so upset. When he was more composed.

  Stirring, Bailey’s fingers ran over his back. She kissed his shoulder, then moved to his neck. He could feel the need growing again. He doubted it would ever go away. The hurt was still there for both of them. It might linger for some time. But tonight, there was something he could do to ease it. He took her mouth in a long, searching kiss. He twisted onto his back, bringing her over him. His hands moved over her, and they began the slow preamble once more.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was as good of a way to say good-bye as any, really. She maybe hadn’t been able to get through to him during their talk. She had been a little hysterical, which wasn’t wholly unexpected after a day of keeping it together. But if this was going to be the last memory she made with Wilder, it had been a sweet one.

  After saying their good-byes for a second time, Wilder fell asleep with his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. His heart beat against her cheek, a steady strum marking another second passed. Another second closer to when she’d never see him again.

  Unless she tuned into the Design Network that fall. She’d see plenty of him then, along with Waverly, and Virginia, and a shadow of the time they’d spent together. He might tell her this would be the last season, but she knew better. When you were going up against a man like Devon, who had pull over Waverly, you were never really going to be free. No matter how badly you wanted it. You’d lose too much in the process. Wilder couldn’t afford to lose Virginia. She wouldn’t let him.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, but it hurt all over. It was like a case of the flu. Everything ached. It was hard to breathe. It was almost impossible to imagine that she’d ever feel well again. Over a man. Over this man.

  Wilder sucked in a deep breath, rubbing his chin across her head in his sleep. It sent another ripple of pain through her.

  If she was going to have her heart ripped to shreds, at least she’d found someone worthy of the deed. That fact wouldn’t dull the pain, but maybe—given some time—it would mean something.

  Her phone buzzed, signaling a new text or email. It was probably just an ad. Maybe a coupon for one of the furniture stores she frequented. Or maybe it was the yogurt place that had needed her cell phone number for some reason and now liked to shoot her a message every time they had a new flavor. She should really go through and unsubscribe from all of those services. She’d have plenty of time with her upcoming unemployment.

  It could also be her mama or Paige. By now, Felix had probably told them what had happened. Or at least what he’d known had happened. That little slice of information would be enough to worry her.

  The phone buzzed again, signaling yet another new message, piquing her interest. A retailer or sales person wouldn’t follow up so quickly. With only a mild curiosity, she extracted herself from Wilder’s hold and dug through her pockets to pull out her phone.

  She reread the messages several times, letting each one have its fair share of processing time.

  I know I have no right to ask, but could we please meet for dinner or coffee? I’d really like to see you. After this, I’ll never bother you again.

  Please.

  Apparently after months of dodging his texts, and after running out on him just that morning, her father hadn’t given up. He’d always been dense. His wants, his needs, had always been more important than anyone else’s. Why should it be any different now? If he said he wanted to see her—and she said she wanted nothing to do with him—who would ultimately win?

  She glanced back at Wilder’s sleeping form, wanting to curl up against him and pretend the day hadn’t happened. That tomorrow wouldn’t. That kind of wishing would only delay the inevitable. If she was truly brave, she’d get dressed, walk out of the room, and go hear her father out. Then she’d tell him she never wanted to see or hear from him again. After, she’d go pack her suitcase and catch the next flight back to Austin.

  It was as good of a plan as any, really.

  She sent a quick reply, telling him when and where to meet—she could control that much of the situation at least. Then she dressed and started for the door. With her hand on the handle, she paused, doubled back to kiss his forehead. She cupped his cheek, lightly scratching the stubble from his light two-day beard.

  This had been one hell of a moment in time. And soon, she hoped she’d be able to think about it without crying.

  ***

  Bailey asked the cab driver to circle the block twice before she worked up the nerve to enter the coffee shop. She didn’t consider it cowardice. After the day she’d had, she just needed the extra time to get herself in the right place—or as good of one as possible—before she met the man who’d contributed half of her chromosomes. The extra cab fare was worth every penny. It was an investment in restoring some of that dignity she’d lost in Devon’s office.

  So with the cab driver paid an
d a fresh coat of lipstick painted on her lips, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. She was barely in the door when she found her father sitting at a corner table. He was toying with his cup of coffee, turning the cup around, picking it up with his left hand, then his right. He set it back down to stir in a spoonful of sugar. He tested it and added an extra spoonful. Funny, she didn’t remember him taking sugar in his coffee. She didn’t really remember much about him. Just that he didn’t like it when she and Paige had chased each other around his apartment. He hadn’t liked them making noise or leaving any of their toys around either.

  She’d never had the chance to study his behavior in any great detail until now. He was still wearing the suit from earlier in the day, or at least one that looked exactly the same. For all she knew he maybe had a dozen just like it. That seemed like a dad thing to do—find one thing you liked, then buy ten of them.

  He looked older. That made sense. Of course he would. She hadn’t seen him in years. But unlike that morning when he’d seemed distinguished and handsome with his age, right there in the coffee shop, he looked like he had more miles on him. The miles hadn’t been easy ones.

  As he was about to add a third spoonful of sugar, he happened to glance up and caught her staring. Dropping the spoon, he jumped to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket as he did. He stepped to the side of the table, like he might greet her halfway. But he stopped, seeming to think the better of it, and waited.

  Remembering her mama’s advice, she pulled her shoulders back and walked toward him with a confidence she wasn’t entirely sure she possessed.

  He waited for her to take a seat before he resumed his position, unbuttoning his jacket as he did. He said nothing, watching her cautiously, like a scared dog waiting to see if he was going to be swatted with the newspaper or scratched behind his ears.

  He said nothing. Years of silence followed by months of unanswered phone calls, and he was going to wait for her to speak first. Well, fine. She could be the grown-up in this relationship.

  Or she could be childish and say what she really thought. “So, what’s the deal? Are you dying or something? Are you trying to make your peace so you can meet your maker with a clear conscience?”